‘Ah! Yes!’ Sir Roger seemed unsettled and literally squirmed. ‘Unfortunately, Miss Hastings is expected at her mother’s side directly. We were just leaving.’ Sir Roger presented his arm again to his companion.
The Duke kept his grip on her hand, pulled her gently forward to place his hand on the small of her back and started to steer her towards his table. Lucy may be a Miss, but nobody had handled her with such blatant disregard since she was five. She stomped her foot into the floor and hissed ‘Unhand me, Sir!’ Her eyes looked at the Duke with rebuke.
He was captivated to see the fire in her eyes and suddenly he looked at her in a new light and not just as some chit that was after Sir Roger’s title.
‘Be careful what you say, Markham.’ Buxton’s laconic voice drawled from behind her, ‘otherwise you’ll wear her palm print too!’
The Duke raised his eyes to the Earl of Buxton, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. ‘She slapped you?’
‘She did and for something less than touching her inappropriately,’ Buxton rubbed his cheek as he looked at the Duke’s hand still resting on her waistline. ‘So be warned!’
The Duke flexed his fingers and released Lucy’s hand slowly, making sure the fingers of his other hand stroked sensuously over her back as he stepped away. It made a shiver run down Lucy’s spine, but Buxton distracted the Duke and Sir Roger took the opportunity to move away, gently taking her hand and placing it back on his arm, from where the Duke removed it.
‘My dear Miss Hastings.’ Sir Roger began. ‘I’m mortified that the Duke should be so forward.’
‘Do you have business with him?’ Lucy asked distractedly, she was more interested in why the Duke felt he could just manhandle her to his table without censure.
‘Just a wager to settle, nothing of import.’ Sir Roger muttered, but she didn’t miss the sheen of sweat springing out on his forehead. He led her to the stairs rather more quickly than she liked.
‘Are we in a hurry?’ she asked innocently and Sir Roger slowed his pace and sighed in relief.
‘No. I was merely distancing myself from the fireworks that might erupt with my cousin and the Duke in close proximity.’ He stated flatly.
‘Why would there be fireworks?’ she asked in surprise.
Sir Roger looked at her knowingly. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t hear about Harriet Saunders?’ he asked agog.
She frowned. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard of her.’ She murmured, but the name tweaked a memory and she could see her Uncle muttering the name under his breath. ‘What happened?’
Sir Roger looked almost gleeful. ‘Well, you see she was Markham’s mistress and Buxton did no more than go into the house that Markham had set up for her and remove her to his own house.’
Lucy inhaled sharply at the mention of mistresses. ‘Is that sort of thing done with mistresses?’ she asked her eyes alight with interest and suddenly Sir Roger remembered he was talking with an innocent miss and cleared his throat with embarrassment.
‘No. A Mistress is usually sacrosanct, unless she has decided to change her protector.’ Sir Roger said coldly and indicated Lucy’s brother. ‘Here is your brother.’ He said in relief again.
‘Oh! Lucy! Thank goodness I have found you, mother is waiting for you.’ he said and ushered Lucy away from Sir Roger, who left with alacrity, before the Duke could come looking for him as he owed him a rather large amount of money.
Timothy Hastings was taller than Lucy and she found it strange to look up at her younger brother, like she did when Benjamin came home from Eton and he was suddenly taller. All of her brothers were the image of their father with dark brown, wavy hair and the signature green eyes. Robert still wore his unfashionably long, but Richard, Benjamin and Timothy had elected to have theirs cut to a more fashionable length and style.
Timothy gallantly held out his arm and escorted Lucy down the stairs to the bathhouse.
The Right Honourable Evelyn Hastings face was pale due to the discomfort and pain in her spine. It made her more peevish than Lucy had ever known her mother to be. Lucy rushed to her mother’s side.
‘About time, Lucy! I thought you’d forgotten me.’ Evelyn snapped.
‘Not at all, mother, but we were delayed by the Duke of Markham. Sir Roger effected an introduction.’ Lucy said patiently as she held her arm out for her mother and escorted her into the changing rooms. From a distance they looked like sisters, it was only up close that you could see the age difference, as Evelyn had a few flecks of grey in her dark mahogany hair and some deeper lines around her eyes, although she had dark circles under her eyes from the pain and lack of sleep. They were of a similar height and lithe grace, but Evelyn had started to thicken around the middle after bearing five children.
They were quiet until Lucy was untying Evelyn’s full corset when she murmured. ‘Keep away from Markham, Lucy. He is dangerous.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Lucy asked but her mother kept quiet. ‘He looked like a man should look, like a golden angel.’ She said with something close to awe in her voice.
Evelyn turned sharply, grabbing Lucy by the shoulders. ‘More like a golden devil! Promise me you will never be alone with him, never.’ She demanded, almost sobbing the word.
‘I promise, Mama.’ Lucy said as she saw the distress on her mother’s face as tears welled in her dark green eyes.
Evelyn pulled Lucy into a harsh embrace. ‘Don’t be tempted by that golden facade. If your father were still alive, he would stand over your shoulder while you were out in public. Now you have had an introduction, he will sniff around like the randy dog he is and I beg you not to get caught out by him.’ She pushed Lucy away from her and cupped her cheek. ‘You are my only daughter and I worry for you, without a father. I must have a word with Robert or Richard.’ She finished and turned away for Lucy to finish unlacing her corset.
Lucy was perturbed that her mother would be so vehement about a single, titled male. But perhaps she knew something that Lucy didn’t and she decided to quiz her eldest brother when she had the opportunity. Robert would spill the beans, he always did.
Lucy helped her mother into a towelling bathrobe and quickly shed her dress, chemise and stockings, donning her own robe before they left the changing rooms and entered the bathhouse.
There was a guide waiting to escort them and soon Lucy was helping her mother to relax in the heated spa waters. Lucy sat on the side of the bath and just looked about her. The room had to be nearly two hundred feet long and she knew there were seventeen hot baths and three cold. The genders were separated by plain cotton screens. She could clearly hear the men on the other side, laughing and talking. There was something erotic about sitting on the edge of the bath in only a robe knowing there were males nearby.
‘Come in the water, Lucy. Even though your health is good, the heat will help relax your muscles too.’ Her mother murmured.
‘Yes, mother.’ Lucy replied and slipped off the side, waded across to her mother and settled on the steps. The hot water made her skin tingle and as she lay back, she could feel her tense muscles easing.
‘I met Sir Roger’s mother.’ She said idly.
‘What did you make of her?’ Evelyn asked softly.
‘She’s an empty-headed doll.’ Lucy murmured, ‘just like her five daughters. Keep Robert away from them, otherwise she’ll have him in a parson’s mousetrap with Elizabeth, the eldest.’
‘I intend for Robert to choose his own wife. If he wants a brainless idiot, so be it. Many men have done just that.’ Evelyn sighed. ‘Just some brood mare to get the heir off and then their mistresses give them what they need.’
‘Did father have a mistress?’
Evelyn looked sharply at her daughter. ‘No, he did not. I made sure he never needed one.’ She sighed and her expression softened. ‘What brought on this subject?’
‘I was introduced to the Earl of Buxton, he’s Sir Roger’s cousin and Sir Roger mentioned a disagreement between him and the Duke of Markham over his
mistress Harriet Saunders.’
Evelyn sat up straight and looked keenly at her daughter. ‘I know you like to unravel mysteries, Lucy, but do my heart a favour and stay away from Markham and his damned mistresses.’
‘Yes, Mother.’ Lucy lapsed into silence and tried to not to think about how handsome both Buxton and Markham were, in different ways. Markham was a golden angel and Buxton was a dark devil, with devil’s eyes.
Evelyn slowly lay back in the water and hoped her wayward daughter wouldn’t look too deeply into the Buxton/Harriet Saunders affair. I could do without her finding out Harriet Saunders is my cousin! She thought. Mind you, I wouldn’t mind Buxton as a son in law. She smiled softly at that thought and sighed.
Chapter Two
The Assembly Rooms above the Pump Rooms held a ball of one sort or another most evenings. Tonight’s was a black and white ball, men had to dress in black evening wear and ladies had to dress in either black or white.
Lucy sat at the dresser watching Betsy secure the diamond tiara in her dark russet hair and gently place the small white flowers. Lucy surveyed the finished article and smiled. ‘Betsy you are a miracle worker. You take the ordinary and make it beautiful.’
‘Look at what the good Lord gave me to work with.’ Betsy smiled and curtsied.
Lucy looked over her gown again and wondered if it was a little too risqué. Her décolletage was definitely exposed, but she was sure there would be ladies with even more showing. She gently straightened the long silk gloves that almost reached her armpits. The diamond necklace draped around the base of her throat sparkled in the candle light. She picked up the silk reticule to match her silk gown and her ivory fan. She smiled at Betsy again and left to go down stairs. Betsy followed with her dark red velvet cape over her arm. She met Timothy on the landing. ‘Sweet Saviour!’ burst from him. ‘You look positively beautiful, Sis. I shall be the envy of every buck there!’ He offered his arm and Lucy smiled coyly.
‘And I shall be the envy of every debutante, Timmy. So make sure you don’t dance more than two dances with any girl otherwise her mamma will expect an offer!’ She appraised her brother and found him completely dashing, as all her brothers were, from his dark hair to his fine black silk dancing slippers.
Evelyn was waiting in the hall. ‘Come along, you two, we shall be late.’ She admonished them as the butler draped her midnight blue cape over her shoulders. Lucy knew that she was in a full length corset complete with steel back brace, to ease her discomfort for the night ahead.
Timothy took the cloak from Betsy, draped it over Lucy’s shoulders and as she fastened the clasp, he accepted his cloak from his valet and placed his bicorn hat on his head, adjusting it to the right angle, and then pulled on his white evening gloves.
The footman opened the door at a signal from the butler and revealed the glossy black five panel landau waiting outside the door with its carriage lamps gleaming in the dark. Another footman stood ready by the carriage to help the ladies inside and he offered his gloved hand to Evelyn Hastings. Timothy was last in and he sat with his back to the horses, as decorum dictated. The coach started with a jerk that made Evelyn suck in her breath.
The carriage pulled away from number five Beauchamp Road, in the direction of Clarendon Avenue. The coachman carefully negotiated crossing over this busy road into the top of The Parade and then they merely followed every other carriage heading for the Pump Rooms.
‘Timothy, you must keep an eye on Lucy tonight.’ Evelyn looked hard at her son. ‘Mind not so much whom she dances with, but who endeavours to get her alone.’
‘Will somebody try to get her alone?’ Timothy looked at his mother in confusion. He was a younger version of Robert and Evelyn wondered if he would grow up to look like his father, as all his brothers had. There were subtle differences between each of them, but essentially they all had Rufus’s dark brown hair, his hazel and green eyes and his tall, broad shouldered physique. Each face was slightly different, with Robert having no dimple, but Tim did, Richard had a square chin that the others didn’t and Benjamin had Evelyn’s fine cheek bones.
‘The Duke of Markham will be sniffing around.’ Evelyn explained and Timothy suddenly displayed understanding.
‘Yes, Mother. You can rely on me.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’ Lucy asked in a hurt voice. ‘I’m perfectly capable of saying no.’
Evelyn speared her with a piercing look. ‘Make sure that you do.’
‘Yes, mother.’ Lucy remained calm.
‘If your father were here I wouldn’t ask Timothy to do it, but he’s not and men only listen to men.’
‘I’m sorry mother, but I’m only fifteen. Someone like the Duke of Markham is not going to take any notice of me.’ Timothy said deprecatingly.
‘It will make him think twice, if he’s likely to get called out by a minor.’ Evelyn smiled and stroked her palm over his cheek. ‘Try not to think about it, but just remain alert.’ She demanded seeing the doubt on her youngest child’s face.
It took a little while for their carriage to arrive at the front doors and then the footman had the steps down. They were out, the steps back up and the carriage moving off before Lucy had time to sigh and look up at the coat of arms over the doorway.
Sir Roger was waiting just inside the doors and helped Lucy off with her cloak. ‘I must say you look delectable, tonight Miss Hastings.’ He said gallantly. He shook hands with Timothy and bowed to her mother then offered his arm for Lucy to collect her dance card. She was astonished to see that the card resembled a fan, opening out in a half moon shape with each dance allotted to each individual vane. The outer vanes were gilded with gold leaf, the wrist strap was a gold chain and the pencil was attached with a length of gold ribbon. As she admired it, she realised it would fit nicely with her collection of unusual dance cards that her mother had encouraged to collect when she was younger. Lucy carefully slipped the chain over her wrist and lifted the delicate lace and sarsenet gown as Sir Roger took her elbow in a gentle manner and escorted her up the stairs to the Assembly Rooms. For all his popinjay dress, Sir Roger had exceptional manners. Tonight he was dressed in a peacock blue waistcoat under his severely cut-away black silk jacket, black silk britches, black silk stockings and dancing slippers. His white silk shirt and cravat with a large ruby stickpin finished it off nicely.
‘You look very colourful tonight, Sir Roger, considering this is supposed to be a black and white ball.’ Evelyn said evenly. She was wearing a stunning black Moiré gown that shimmered in the candle light, with a delicate silk shawl in white.
‘Well, I thought a little colour would liven things up, nobody likes dressing as if they are in mourning, what?’ Sir Roger said blasély.
‘Quite.’ Her mother murmured.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Lucy could see how crowded the ballroom was. She knew there were a drinks room, a card room, a supper room and the retiring rooms on the periphery of this main ballroom. Timothy escorted his mother to the chairs that were lining the outside wall of the ballroom and helped her to sit. She sighed in relief and asked Timothy to procure her a glass of lemonade.
Lucy stood beside her mother and Sir Roger asked if he could have the first dance. Lucy held up her hand and Sir Roger opened the dance card carefully. He pencilled his name into the first slot for the Quadrille, closed it carefully and bowed. ‘I’m honoured you would stand up with me for the first dance, Miss Hastings. Would you like some refreshment?’
‘Thank you, I think a small glass of lemonade.’ She smiled and Sir Roger bowed and turned away.
‘He has very nice manners.’ Evelyn said as she watched him mince his way across the ballroom. ‘It’s such a pity he has pockets for let.’
‘Are they in dire straits?’ Lucy asked quietly.
‘Not yet, but I understand they will be when he finally pays Markham what he owes him.’
‘Is it a lot of money?’
‘It’s nearly a thousand guineas and that’s only
a fraction of what he owes elsewhere.’ Evelyn said firmly. ‘He wants your dowry as soon as poss….’ she stopped mid-sentence and her face froze. Lucy looked up from her mother’s face to see the Duke of Markham standing in front of them. He was very elegant, in the best silk clothes that money could buy. He bowed formally. Evelyn inclined her head at the same time as Lucy dipped a curtsey.
‘Good evening, Ladies.’ He smiled as he straightened up and Lucy was actually reminded of a snake. ‘Mrs. Hastings. May I be permitted to dance with your daughter?’ he asked rather obsequiously, making Lucy frown.
‘You may.’ Evelyn said, but as Markham reached for Lucy’s dance card, where it dangled from her wrist, Evelyn brought her fan up and placed it very deliberately on the Duke’s forearm. ‘None of the waltzes, she will be dancing those with her brother or not at all.’ She looked him squarely in the eye and the Duke could see the determination in her gaze. She was telling him to break her edict at his own peril.
He leaned down and whispered in Evelyn’s ear. ‘I could destroy her, you know?’
‘If you do that, Your Grace. I will steal into your house in the middle of the night and you will wake up with your testicles in your mouth!’ The Duke pulled back just enough to see her eyes and was unsettled by what he saw. ‘I have nothing to lose, Your Grace, but you do.’ She looked pointedly at his groin. He was confronted with a lioness protecting her cub and he didn’t really want to see where this confrontation would lead.
Lucy wondered what they were whispering about, but she suddenly didn’t want to know, if her mother’s stiff posture was anything to go by. She could see the Earl of Buxton watching and suddenly he strode over to them, but he didn’t take his gaze off the back of the Duke. He gave Lucy a fleeting smile and motioned for her to lift her arm. She stuck her arm out and he took the little pencil and wrote his name into each waltz slot. He smiled at her and returned his attention to the Duke, stepping back to make way for his companion.
Pride and Retribution Page 4